Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5)

by Forster, Rebecca

  To Josie: “Ms. Bates, if you could please move so those men can assist.”

  Montoya had broken the spell the old man cast and Josie did as she was told.

  To the security officers he said: “If one of you would check that man for weapons.” Mike indicated the younger of the two men. “And the other watch me.”

  To the older man: “Put your hands against the wall. Open palmed. Spread your legs.”

  The men secured the scene and Josie went to Rosa Zuni. The woman looked serene, and peacefully unaware of what was going on around her. While she was still heavily sedated, there was no doubt she was healing. Wounds that had been as radiant and red as if she had been branded had cooled to a rosier pink. Her flesh was knitting itself over the jabs and stabs and slices. Her gown was fresh, her IVs were intact, the stitches encircling her neck showed no indication that they had been disturbed. Someone had combed her hair. If anything was done to her, if these men had meant her harm, there was no evidence that they had accomplished what they set out to do.

  “We didn’t touch her.” The young man threw that over his shoulder. His voice shook, but only a little. He, too, had an accent, but it was tamped down. Enough years in the U.S. erased all but traces of it. Unlike the older man, he had an attitude.

  “Ms. Bates, could you ask a doctor in please? I’d like to confirm that Ms. Zuni is alright.”

  Josie ducked out of the room just as Mike Montoya was finished with his task. He kept a hand on the big man’s shoulder as he queried the security cop dealing with the younger man.

  “Officer? ”

  “Nothing.” The officer backed up and let the young man turn around.

  “Excellent. Thank you.” Mike tapped the older one and he also turned just as Josie returned with the doctor.

  Montoya spoke to her briefly. Josie heard her say:

  “There’s a consultation room down the hall. They’ll show you.”

  Without much ado, the men in the room regrouped. The two persons who had caused the ruckus were flanked with one security guard ahead, Mike to the side and the second guard pulling up the rear. Montoya paused as he came abreast of Josie:

  “You might want to come.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” Josie smiled her thanks before going back to the bedside. The doctor was just finishing up.

  “She’s fine. I can’t see that anything was disturbed. I’ll be glad when she’s gone. This is a hospital, not a safe house.”

  The doctor tugged on her stethoscope and left shaking her head. Josie was about to follow but hesitated and looked back at Rosa Zuni. Everyone seemed to want that poor woman gone. Everyone except Billy who loved her ferociously and fiercely protected her with his evasions and cryptic explanations of their situation.

  Josie went back to the bedside and took one more minute with this woman who would have saved everyone a hell of a lot of trouble if she had died. But the only eyewitness to what happened in that house was Rosa Zuni, and she lingered between life and death.

  Josie touched Rosa’s hair, thinking it a gentle, wonderful thing that Hannah who didn’t believe in miracles thought this woman would open her eyes and exonerate Billy just because Hannah wished it so. Poor Hannah. Disappointed again.

  Josie picked up Rosa Zuni’s hand and held it in both of hers. She doubled over to rest on the cold metal of the bedside restraints. If this woman was not a monster then what was she?

  A protector?

  A martyr?

  A mistake?

  Josie’s mind was a fog of vague questions that she didn’t even know how to begin to ask. She was tired. She was lost. She whispered:

  “Who did this to you?”

  There was no answer. She hadn’t expected one. The monitors glowed. The air pumped. Josie opened her fingers. There was business to be done with Montoya and the men who had been in this room, yet before she could leave Rosa Zuni’s small fingers twitched and closed around Josie’s. Her clasp was weak, sliding away even as she tried to make the connection. Josie raised her eyes, frozen as she watched the woman’s eyelids flutter. Afraid that a sudden movement might stop whatever was happening, Josie leaned forward cautiously and put her lips close to Rosa Zuni’s ear.

  “Who did this to you?”

  Josie turned her head and put her own ear next to Rosa’s mouth. She waited. Finally, on the back of the tortuous breath that came from Rosa Zuni rode one word:

  “Billy.”

  ***

  Archer had been inside the Zuni house longer than he realized. When he stepped out onto the porch, the sun was just starting its decent. Billy’s backpack was slung over one shoulder. He would stop at one of the shops in town and pick up a pair of tennis shoes because it was a sure bet that flip-flops weren’t going to cut it where Billy was going. Archer had the magazine, the book, and the box reminder from Go Postal.

  He was already in the Hummer, key in the ignition, phone in hand to check in with Josie, when a man came out of the place next door. Young and strong, he was also clearly ticked off as he dragged a packing blanket to the dumpster on the street and tossed it in. He wiped his hands on his jeans and headed back into the construction. Archer gave up on the call, opened the car door, and followed.

  The place had been framed out into big rooms, tall ceilings, and wide doorways. He breathed in. There was nothing like the smell of bare wood and plaster to get a man excited and Archer was no exception. It looked like the electrical was done and most of the plumbing put in place. To his right was a stack of top-of-the-line hardwood for tongue and groove flooring. Some of it had been knocked down and lay spread out over the foundation. To his left was a huge kitchen. He would have liked to explore the second story but followed the sounds coming from the back of the house instead. Back there the drywall was up on most of the walls but Archer could see through the studs to the fence shared with Billy’s place. The man he had seen was bent over the toilet, cursing and muttering.

  “Hey. Hello!” Archer called.

  The guy twirled fast, straightened, and shot into the room where Archer stood. He was armed with a plunger, but the look on his face said he could use it to kill if he had to.

  “Hold on, man.” Archer put out his hands. “I just want to talk to you.”

  The man narrowed his eyes, checked Archer out, was satisfied with what he saw, and lowered the plunger.

  “Sorry. I thought you were the other guy.” He turned around and walked back through the framed doorway.

  “I wouldn’t want to be the other guy.”

  “Damn straight.” He bent over the toilet and started in with the plunger again. Archer arced around a sink and vanity that was left in the main room and stood between two studs so he could talk to the guy.

  “I’ve got this all hooked up. The owners are running out of dough and they want to live in this back area while I finish the rest of the place. Now I’ve got me a squatter and he’s squatting in all the wrong places. Goddamn mess. Disgusting.”

  Archer didn’t have to see what he was complaining about, he could smell it. The guy was right. Someone hadn’t been feeling too well. It would have been a whole lot better if he’d just tossed his cookies on the slab. At least that way it could have been washed off.

  “Why don’t you just get a hose and run it down?”

  “It’s not just the barf,” the man muttered. “There’s something else stuck down there. I’ve got to dig it out. I think there’s a pry bar out there.”

  Archer looked around, saw the pry bar, retrieved it, and handed it to the man.

  “This place has been nothing but trouble,” the man groused. “If I scratch this it’s going to come out of my nut.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Archer commiserated. He had to pick up a few tabs in his time and it was no fun. He admired the guy for being on the up and up.

  “So what can I do for you?” The contractor kept at his work, but he seemed to have calmed down. Maybe it was just having someone to complain to that did it.


  “Name’s Archer. I’m a friend of the kid who lives next door. Guess you heard what happened.”

  “Damn. I scratched it. I’m going to have to replace it.” The man grunted and went at his chore with a vengeance since there was nothing to lose. “No, what happened?”

  Archer filled him in. He turned briefly resting an elbow on the porcelain seat and putting one hand on his hip.

  “No shit?”

  Archer raised a brow. The man took a moment to think about what he’d been told. He took a deep breath.

  “Randy,” he said. “I’d shake your hand but you should probably pass.”

  “I appreciate it,” Archer answered.

  “You’re not a cop.” Randy went back to his work but this time with more finesse than brute force.

  “Private off and on. Do you know the kid? His name’s Billy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him.”

  “And?” Archer pressed.

  “And nothing. I’ve seen him.” Randy was offhanded.

  “How often?”

  “Man, I don’t know. When I’m here. I come early in the morning. My crew is in and out. I was gone a few days on another job, then with the rain nobody was working. Sorry, can’t remember the last time I saw him. I never talked to him.”

  “What about the woman who lived there?”

  “Yeah, she was a cutie.” Randy paused. He turned his head. “Hey, sorry. I forgot. I hope she makes it.”

  “Do you remember anyone else in particular?”

  Randy grunted as he shook his head and maneuvered the pry bar. “Almost had it. Sorry, no. I don’t really pay attention. You know how it is. You work, you run from job to job.”

  Archer shifted his weight, tapped a hand on one of the studs. There wasn’t much more to say. He knew exactly how it was with most people. Memory was unreliable. Unless there was a steady flow of men into Rosa’s house, nobody would have given her a second thought.

  “Thanks. I appreciate the time. Is it okay if I come back later and talk to your crew?”

  “Sure, just don’t sit down to tea if you know what I mean.”

  “I promise. Short and sweet.” Archer took a second to really look at the room he was in. Two of the walls already had board up. The one facing Billy’s house was open. In the corner he saw what happened to the flooring. Someone had dragged a few pieces from the front of the house and used them to make a tee-pee of sorts. “Your guy made himself right at home.”

  Randy glanced up.

  “Can you believe it? He built himself a tent like a goddamn boy scout. He even made a fire. I’m lucky he didn’t burn the place down.”

  Archer wandered to the campsite and poked at the burned spot on the concrete. There were a couple of empty cans, half a piece of bread and some chicken bones. No wrappers. Whoever had been in here was probably dumpster diving.

  “How long did you say you’ve been away from this place?” Archer asked.

  “Five days. Maybe six.”

  “You didn’t come yesterday at all, or the day before?”

  Randy shook his head but he was concentrating on the task of unplugging the toilet. He tossed the bar and it landed on the foundation with a clatter.

  “Aw hell, I give up.” He left and came back with his tools. “Can you stick around long enough to help me move this?”

  “No problem.” Archer went over and waited for him to undo the nuts. “You probably don’t have any idea who’s been camping out here, do you?”

  “If I did, there wouldn’t be much left of him,” Randy laughed.

  Archer squeezed into the room and together they lifted the toilet. It was a nice piece of porcelain. They put it inside the bedroom. Randy looked in. “Maybe I can fix where I scratched it. I hope so. Not much margin on this job.”

  Archer stepped out of the bathroom and Randy stepped back in, picked up the pry bar again, and dug into the pipe.

  “Got it!” He pulled out the metal probe and with it came the thing he’d been fishing for. Grinning, he turned toward Archer to show off his prize. Archer was duly impressed. In fact, Archer couldn’t take his eyes off the cheap blue jacket dangling from the pry bar.

  ***

  One of the security guards stood upright near the door of the conference room. The two men were on the sofa: the older man sat comfortably, the younger man was still wired. Montoya had drawn a chair up in front of the sofa, but he got up when Josie came in and huddled with her briefly.

  “Did you get Hannah settled?” he asked.

  She nodded. “She’ll stay in Billy’s room. They took off the restraints.”

  “That’s fine,” he said, not quite satisfied. “Anything else I should know?”

  Josie shook her head and fell back. Thankfully, Montoya had no more time to waste on her. He sat down again and gave his full attention to the men on the couch.

  “My name is Mike Montoya. I am a sheriff’s detective. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Police. You are police,” Gjergy answered.

  “And you?” Mike looked at the younger man.

  “Yeah. I’m okay. I live here. I’m a citizen,” he said.

  “That’s very good. You are not in any trouble, but we are concerned about the woman in that room and why you were there.”

  “Who is that woman?” The older man cut his eyes toward Josie.

  “That is Josie Bates. She is representing Rosa Zuni’s son, Billy.”

  “She is not his family,” Gjergy stated.

  “No. I’m a friend and his attorney,” Josie answered. “I watch out for his well being since his mother can’t.”

  The young man leaned toward the older one and whispered. He chose his words carefully and they came haltingly. Life in America had almost wiped out the language he once spoke.

  “Gentlemen. We would be grateful if you spoke English.” Mike directed his comment to the younger man. “I need to get some basic information from both of you. What’s your name and where do you live?”

  “I live in San Pedro,” he mumbled.

  “Your address?” Mike asked.

  “200 Rose Avenue.”

  “And your name?”

  Mike raised his eyes. His pencil was poised. He appeared to wait patiently for the answer. In reality he was looking at the young man and wondering why he didn’t lead with his name.

  “Sam Lumina.” Mike gave no indication that he had heard that name before from Kat Oi, from Dan Jenkins, from Torrance police department’s reports on the union behavior outside Marshall Fasteners. “My name’s Sam Lumina and this is my uncle, Gjergy Isai. He’s visiting. Look, we weren’t doing anything wrong. We don’t need guards or nothing. We were just-”

  “Stop.” Gjergy’s hand came up. “This man will ask in his own time.”

  The only indication that Mike Montoya was a little perturbed that this man seemed to be giving him permission to do his job was a smooth, small smile.

  “And your name is Gjergy? Could you spell that?” The old man did. “And your last name?”

  “Isai. I am Gjergy Isai. I am from-”

  “Thank you. The name is good for now. Let’s start with Mr. Lumina. I’ll try to be expedient.”

  Mike purposefully went to the younger man, curious to see if the older would take exception. He didn’t. He sat straight and tall and seemingly disengaged. Everyone in the room knew he wasn’t.

  “Mr. Lumina, where do you work?”

  “I’m a machinist.” Again, Mike noted, he did not answer the question.

  “Are you employed?”

  “Yeah. I work at Marshall Fasteners. Look, I don’t know why you made us come in here. I just don’t understand this at all.” He wiped his forehead. His eyes never quite connected with Mike’s as his frustration grew.

  “You’ve been having some kind of excitement over there at Marshall,” Mike noted conversationally. “Mr. Oi, the owner is dead. Did you know that?”

  “I heard,” Sam said.

  “I understand the
re was a lock out. I also understand there was some trouble inside the building. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Sometimes the boys get excited,” Sam answered. “Someone wanted to make a point, maybe. I don’t know who.”

  “It was an interesting point that was made in Mr. Oi’s office.”

  “Yeah, well, like I said, I heard about it. Somebody puts a knife in a dummy, but that’s not how Oi was killed so what does it matter? I don’t see any connection,” Sam snapped.

  “The woman in the room where we found you was attacked in the same house where Mr. Oi was killed. Did you know that?” Mike eyes were still on his notebook. When there was no answer, he glanced up. “Did you?”

  Sam Lumina shrugged. “Yeah. I know. That’s how I know she was hurt.”

  “What is your connection to Ms. Zuni, Sam?”

  “I don’t know her. She’s related sort of, but I can’t remember how. Everyone is related in the old country.” He sniffed and moved and postured like a school bully. Before he went on Gjergy interrupted.

  “You must forgive my nephew. He has had no dealings with police, so he is afraid.”

  Mike smiled with well-practiced sympathy. A door had opened and he had walked through.

  “And you aren’t?”

  “No. I am not afraid. In my own country, I have been known by the police,” the old man said. “But here it is different. Here the police hope to help, I believe. This is what happens in America, is it not?”

  “Yes, it is. We do hope to help people who deserve our help. We take great care in determining who is a victim but also to find out who is not.”

  Josie moved and so did Montoya. There was a warning in the subtle shifting of his shoulders and it was for her. This wasn’t a courtroom; this was his arena. She fell back and remained silent.

  “We know that Rosa Zuni needs our help,” Mike went on. “We don’t know why she was hurt or why Mr. Oi and another man were killed. We don’t know who might have done these things, and that’s why everyone is suspect. Including you.”

  “That is wise.” Gjergy’s eyes hooded, his lips moved with the right words but twisted themselves into an expression of disdain. “In America many things go slowly, but sometimes you are not cautious. I appreciate, sir, that you are cautious.”